


I was born sick, you heard them say it

by piggy09



Series: Keyframes [4]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, so many warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helena sits in the cage for hours, waiting for someone to let her out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I was born sick, you heard them say it

**Author's Note:**

> [warnings: many abuse mentions, emotionally abusive relationship, incest overtones, self-harm]
> 
> Happy birthday, Helena! Remember when you were locked in a cage for an entire day? Good times.

_First hour_

Helena’s been in the cage many times, but every time she tries breaking it anyways. Maybe this time she’ll be angry enough, strong enough, good enough, and God will understand her rage and hurt and He will break the bars. Maybe this time. But she pounds and pounds, her screaming echoing off the metal walls of the ship, and the cage stays put. Solid and heavy and cold.

After a while Helena gives up, sits curled in the corner with her knees folded to her chest. Maybe this is what she deserves. What if Kira is dead? What if it was Helena’s fault? She is a sinner, and she should be punished. She rocks back and forth, thinking: she is a sinner, she deserves to be punished, she is a sinner, she deserves to be punished, she is a sinner, she deserves to be punished, she is so cold, she deserves to be punished, she is a sinner, everything hurts, she is a sinner, she deserves to be punished, her face hurts from where Tomas hit it, she deserves to be punished, her body hurts from where he threw it in the cage, she deserves to be punished, she is a sinner, she doesn’t want to be in this cage. Back and forth and back and forth.

She is so cold. She wishes Sarah was here, she wishes Kira was here, she wishes she’d never met Kira, she is a sinner, she deserves to be punished, she is a sinner, she deserves to be punished – she’s crying now, doesn’t know when she started. Her thumb finds its way between her teeth.

“I miss you, mummy,” she sniffles, rocking back and forth, “ _prosti mene,_ mummy, _bo ya hrishyv._ ” Forgive me. Forgive me, for I have sinned, I have taken the hand of a child that is not mine, I have let that hand be small and warm in my hand, I have let her embrace me, I miss you mummy forgive me. Forgive me, Sarah, for I have sinned. Forgive me. _Prosti mene_ mummy.

Time passes. She is so cold.

_Second hour_

She doesn’t mark time by hours, because that doesn’t work – not in the dark, not in the dark of the cage. When her throat swells with a scream it has been morning-to-afternoon. When her skin itches it is evening. When she gets angry again it is night. When Tomas comes back—

If Tomas comes back—

Helena is good at rationing, always has been. If she had her jacket she would have lollipops to eat at the screaming time, something to hold at the itching time. She doesn’t. That means she’s going to have to ration out something else, instead. That’s alright! She knows how to make it through this; she has learned. Everything is very cold but she hasn’t started getting thirsty yet, hasn’t started screaming yet, it is still morning.It has not been _that_ long. But she is lonely anyways.

Helena shuffles around the cage so she can see her shadow on the ground, stretched out by lantern-light but not long enough to make it inhuman. She lifts one hand and waves. Her shadow waves back. Sometimes Helena makes puppets with her hands, dogs and cats and people who love each other, but that’s not the same. That’s a story, and Helena is too tired to tell stories. She is too lonely. In Helena’s head her shadow says, _Hello, Helena. How was your day?_

_Not good,_ Helena says. _I hurt someone. It was my fault_.

_Are you sure?_ her shadow says, its voice round and dark and curious. Helena and her shadow have talked a lot, over the years, lit by a hoarded candle stub in the cellar of the convent or flickering lights in apartments and basements. Helena didn’t realize her shadow’s voice was Sarah’s voice, but of course it was this whole time. Who else’s voice would it be?

_She was hit by a car_ , Helena says. _She was young and innocent and now she is hurt and maybe she is dead and it is my fault. I am a sinner. I deserve to be punished. Tomas was right._ She’s crying again, rubbing tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

_Tomas doesn’t know about being right_ , her shadow says in a flat paper version of Sarah’s voice. Helena’s shadow is brave, because it has never been hit by Tomas’ fist; Helena’s shadow is brave, because when she is pushed to the floor it learns the meaning of flying. _Tomas locked you in the cage when you stole a candy bar, remember?_

Helena remembers. She was younger then and she had gotten angry again much faster. When Tomas let her out she bit him; he hit her, over and over and over—

_Theft is wrong_ , Helena says, and Helena’s shadow says, _You couldn’t eat for a week. Your face hurt so bad._

_Tomas gave me broth,_ Helena says, wriggling back and forth uncertainly, watching her shadow twitch along. _He said he was sorry. He didn’t want to hurt me, but I made it difficult, and I deserved it._

_Tomas is a liar,_ Helena’s shadow says in Sarah’s voice. _Tomas is a liar and he is not coming back._

“He’s not coming back,” Helena whispers. No. No, Tomas is coming back. Tomas is angry but he is coming back and she will be so sorry, she will be so good.

_But Sarah_ , Helena’s shadow whispers, and Helena is angry and doesn’t want to talk to her shadow anymore. She lies down flat on her back, limbs spread wide so she takes up the whole cage and there is no room. Tomas will come back. Tomas is right. Tomas will come back. Helena is light.

_Third hour_

She doesn’t think Tomas is coming back.

She screams and screams and screams.

_Fourth hour_

She’s so thirsty. One time she was in a cage for so long that she stopped being angry, felt her lips cracking open, started spitting into her hands and drinking it because she was so _thirsty_. When Tomas let her out he gave her water to drink and told her she had been in the cage for two days, and all her sin had burned from her, and now she could have water. He told her that human beings could survive three days without water. On the third day God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place, and let the dry ground appear.” And it was so. So thirsty.

At least her bladder isn’t full. That is the worst part of being in the cage. Helena would rather be thirsty.

It’s afternoon now. This is when Helena would eat something, but she has nothing to eat. She closes her eyes and thinks about all the food Sarah had given her at the diner, the way the Jell-O had tasted on her tongue. Sweet like a head bursting open, an explosion of blood, _boom_. She lies flat on her back like a fallen angel, arms and legs wide out, and closes her eyes, and rations Sarah. First she thinks about Sarah’s hair, long and straight. Helena’s hair was never straight. Helena’s hair curled and frizzed, large like a lion’s mane. Sarah is tame; Helena is not. Thinks about how Sarah’s eyes had looked in the light, glaring at Helena, _we’re not friends_. Thinks about Sarah across the street, yelling _Kira Kira Kira_ —

Next. Next. Next. Next. Next she thinks about the way _Helena_ sounded when Sarah said it, because that’s her second-favorite part of Sarah. (Her first-favorite is Sarah’s skin against her skin, her first-favorite part of Sarah.) She’s cheating, probably, should ration Sarah better, but _Helena Helena Helena_ , like meat ripping between your teeth.

“Helena,” Helena whispers, but it’s not the same. It’s not _fair_. Helena is in a cage and Sarah doesn’t know and would Sarah even come if she knew and Helena is in a cage and Tomas isn’t coming _back_ —

She’s going to get out.

She’s going to get _out_.

Helena scrambles up off her back, wraps her fingers around the bars, looks for something that can get her out out out, to throw herself at Sarah’s feet and say _sorry_ – there. Hook. All the way across the wall but Helena is already fumbling her belt out, pulling out her shoelaces and knotting them all together and throwing it, again and again and again. _Please_ , she thinks, _please, get me out._

_Fifth hour_

Helena’s skin is starting to itch so she stops, rests her head against her folded knees and breathes. _I’m scared_ , she tells her shadow, because she’s forgiven it. Forgiven it. Forgiven it, for the things it has done.

_I know_ , Helena’s shadow says. _But you have to keep going_.

Helena sucks her lips between her teeth, looks at her shadow, thinks about the smell of Sarah’s jacket. Rationing. She pushes her belt and shoelace through the cage bars, throws it, pulls it back, throws it, pulls it back, she is a sinner, she deserves to be throws it, pulls it back, throws it—

It _catches_. Helena grins, despite herself, begins pulling it back. It’s going to be alright. She’s going to get out. Helena lets out a soft rattling noise of relief, despite herself, feels a smile pulling up at the corner of her mouth. It isn’t that she thought she would die here, but – doesn’t matter. Her hand twitches the shoelace twitches the belt twitches the hook falls. Falls.

Helena _roars_ , kicking the cage – kicking the cage – she can’t get angry again, if she gets angry again now she will forget when she is and then she’ll lose track of time completely. She pulls the belt back in jerking motions; it’ll be alright. She’ll – she’ll think of something.

Her phone rings.

There are two people in the world who know Helena’s phone number: Tomas. and. Sarah. Tomas wouldn’t call her, which means – Sarah – _Sarah_ , Sarah is calling Helena and that must mean things are alright. Or that Sarah will make things alright. Helena’s brain moves fast, clicking together like a gun, and she shuffles so she can start throwing the belt towards the arm of the chair. She’s making small grunts in the back of her throat without meaning to, little sounds of desperate need. _Sarah_.

Her phone rings again while she’s desperately throwing out her lifeline, reeling it back, over and over, and Helena wants to say _wait, wait, please, I’m trying_. But she can’t. Something is making her arms shake, and she doesn’t know what it is. Shaking and shaking. Anger? Fear? Love?

(Is there a difference?)

But the loop catches and Helena’s humming in the back of her throat, _please, please_ , pulls the chair over and oh God, praise God, praise God praise God praise oh she has her phone. She punches the number in by memory – she’d sat in the ship, after Sarah had called her, smelling Sarah’s jacket and flicking her fingers up and down to stitch that chain of numbers on her heart – and holds it to her ear. And holds her breath.

It rings.

_Sarah,_ she mouths, _I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, but—_

It rings.

_—please, Sarah, I need your help—_

It rings.

— _I promise I won’t do anything to hurt you but I’m afraid I’m going to die here—_

“Helena?” Sarah asks, and all of Helena’s words scatter on her tongue at the sound of Sarah’s voice, soft and unguarded. Helena wonders if Sarah was asleep; the thought makes something warm and hurting surge through her whole chest.

“Sarah,” she blurts, breathing in rough surging bursts, fingers wrapping around the cage bars. Sarah. Sarah. She picked up, and she isn’t cursing Helena, and everything will be alright. “You’re the only one I can really turn to.”

“What’s going on,” Sarah says, wary, and Helena understands, she _does_ – Kira and Kira and Kira and Kira and Helena says, “I need your help. Please.”

“Helena,” Sarah says again (Helena closes her eyes at the sound of it, can’t help herself), and there’s a shuffling as Sarah moves around. Her voice gets louder. “I need you to tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“He locked me in a cage,” Helena whispers, “and I cannot get out. The keys are far away, and Tomas is not coming back.” She lets out a sob into the phone, because Tomas is not coming back, because Sarah please, because Kira. She thinks she’s crying, or maybe her breath is just coming too fast, making her dizzy. She doesn’t know.

“Sarah,” she gasps into the phone, “I did not tell you to come here when Tomas was here, because it was a trap. He wanted to hurt you.” She hopes that this is enough to say that this is _not_ a trap, that she needs Sarah desperately.

“Please,” she says again.

There’s a pause from the other side of the phone, and Helena’s hands tighten and loosen around the bars, the pain of them digging into Helena’s palms like razor blades.

“Where are you,” Sarah says, and Helena sobs again and tells her.

_Sixth hour_

Sarah is coming.

Helena curls into a ball in the corner of the cage and rations this, holds it in the center of her tongue like sweetness. Sarah is coming. Sarah is coming to save her. It makes her whole body warm, beating like a heart. Helena smoothes her hand up and down the curve of her leg, hip and rib and back down to her knee. Up, down. Up, down. It soothes her and she closes her eyes, imagines it. The door opens. Sarah comes through. She looks worried, but also she looks angry.

Helena is sitting up, fingers wrapped around the bars. (Up, down. Up, down.) _How is Kira,_ she says.

_She’s okay,_ Sarah says. She nods (Helena nods), and says it again, like she’s convincing herself. _She’s okay._

_I’m so sorry this happened to you,_ Sarah says, looking at Helena with pity but also – it’s alright, because it’s Sarah. Helena can’t explain. It’s not quite pity. Sarah gets the keys, unlocks the cage.

_He has done it before,_ Helena says, and Sarah shakes her head. Opens the door and crawls inside, sits next to Helena so their sides are pressed together. Helena didn’t even ask her to; Sarah just knew that this was something Helena needed, to not be alone. (Up, down.) Helena lets herself lean on Sarah, slides down so her head is in Sarah’s lap. (Up, down, Helena alone in the dark.)

_You’re so brave,_ Sarah says, _I’m so proud of you_.

In the dark, alone, Helena opens her eyes. The world is blurred from something that might be tears. She closes them again.

_You’re so brave,_ Sarah says, _I’m so proud of you._

All around Helena, Sarah is warm, and she is not leaving, and if Tomas comes back Sarah will protect her. For now neither of them has to move. For now they can just stay here, and someone can push Helena’s hair back from her forehead and tell her that she is brave, and someone is proud of her.

Helena opens her eyes, closes them again, imagines it.

The door opens. Sarah comes through. She looks so angry.

Helena is sitting up, fingers wrapped around the bars. (Up, down. Up, down.) _How is Kira,_ she says.

_She’s dead_ , Sarah spits, _and it’s your fault._

_I know,_ Helena says, _I know, I am a sinner, I deserve to be punished._ She could die in the cage. It would be slow and it would hurt and it would be what she deserved.

_No,_ Sarah says, violent like a gunshot. She grabs the keys in an angry jerking motion off the wall, unlocks the door. _Get out_.

Helena does. She crawls out on her hands and knees, and Sarah grabs Helena by the back of her jacket and pulls her to the other room. (Up down up down up down up down up) There is the table Helena sat on, white sheet still crumpled on it, and there is the razor blade shining like a star. It’s so bright. It looks like it’s been waiting for her.

_You know what to do_ , Sarah says in Tomas’ voice; Helena looks over (Helena’s hand reaches the curve of her hip and she slips her hand under her shirt, digs her nails in, _down_ ) and sees that Sarah is Tomas. She has been this whole time, probably. They are the same.

Helena knows what to do. Helena is so good. She sits down on the table and grabs the razor blade, puts it against her back. Maybe if she digs deep enough Sarah will be proud of—

Helena opens her eyes, sits upright in the cage. That wasn’t what she’d meant at all. That wasn’t what she’d wanted. Her shadow is shaking, in the light. That probably means Helena is shaking too.

_If you didn’t want it you wouldn’t have thought of it_ , Helena’s shadow says sadly.

_No_ , Helena says. _No, no, no_. Her skin itches all over, and the space on her hip where she’d dug her nails into her skin throbs with pain. She needs to get out of this cage. She needs and needs and needs, enough to swallow her whole like the dark.

She could close her eyes again, but she’s not sure what she’d see – she knows she would be Sarah, but does not know if seeing her is kind or cruel. The scars on her back ache; Helena closes her eyes and slips her hand under her shirt, traces her fingers lightly along each feather, keeps her mind achingly empty so she won’t imagine Sarah doing the same.

“You’re so brave,” she whispers to herself, too teary to be convincing. She sniffles. “I am brave.” It doesn’t sound like anything much. The silence eats her words like a hungry mouth. She doesn’t know how she feels. She doesn’t know what she wants. She doesn’t know what she deserves. Maybe she was right, she thinks guiltily – maybe she just wants someone to tell her what she wants. To say, _kill this person, save this person, love yourself_. _Lie down and die._

_Do you think Sarah will kill me_ , she asks her shadow. She asks herself. She asks the part of herself that is Sarah or could have been, once upon a time. Do you think Sarah will kill me.

Her shadow says nothing, because it is just her, just a trick of the light. Helena pulls her jacket through the bars of the cage, hugs it to herself and shoves it behind her so she can lean on it. The thought of Sarah killing her doesn’t feel like anything. Sarah would know what to do, Helena thinks. If Sarah thought Helena should die Helena would die. She has no one else to follow.

So: if Sarah said Helena should die Helena would do it, and gladly. She doesn’t want Sarah to say that, though. She wants Sarah to open the door to the cage, she wants Kira to be alive, she wants someone else to decide that Helena deserves to live. She wants someone to care about her. That is what she wants.

“Sarah won’t kill me,” she says to the dark, the room that echoed with her screams hours and hours ago. “She won’t. We are friends.”

The dark sits empty, unimpressed. Under her feet Helena can feel the silence of her shadow. She doesn’t know who she’s trying to convince, but she knows it’s important.

“She _cares_ ,” she tells the dark insistently. “And I care about her too, more than anything. More than—”

She pauses. There is nothing left. More than who? More than Tomas? Tomas is gone. More than Maggie? Maggie is dead. More than Kira? Helena doesn’t deserve her, is Kira still alive, what if Kira is dead, Helena doesn’t deserve her. Sarah is the only person Helena has in the whole world – Sarah, with her voice sleep-rough on the phone, walking into the ship to help Helena out of the cage she’s been living in.

“I love her,” she whispers to the darkness, and waits for Sarah to open the door.

**Author's Note:**

> I was born sick,  
> But I love it  
> Command me to be well  
> Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen.
> 
> Take me to church  
> I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies  
> I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife  
> Offer me that deathless death  
> Good God, let me give you my life  
> \--"Take Me to Church," Hozier
> 
> Obviously this was intensely inspired by that song, but I'm also going to take the time to promo [love songs for your sister](http://8tracks.com/pigflight/love-songs-for-your-sister), my playlist, because it has the feel I'm going for here.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you liked!


End file.
